Chapter-9,part-1

I’ve committed homicide. Cold-blooded murder. On many men

who have worn different faces of the devil. And I’ve done it for

various reasons. Whether they raped a child, killed an

innocent, or destroyed someone’s life that didn’t deserve it.

But I’ve never killed someone out of jealousy.

First time for everything, I guess.

Archibald Talaverra has his lips on my girl and his hands down

her pants. He’s touching her. Fucking her with his fingers. Saying

dirty things to her that elicits a pretty little blush of color to her

cheeks.

And at that moment, I decided he wasn’t going to live tonight.

The second I saw them together it took all of my control not to

storm into that club and drag her ass out of there.

Because not only was another man trying to lay claim to my

girl, but Archibald Talaverra is a fucking psychopath.

A real one.

He beat his ex-wife to a bloody pulp on several occasions and

made her life a living hell when she finally decided to divorce his

ass.

The woman is still in a psychiatric hospital receiving treatment

for severe PTSD. He literally broke the woman, and while she

spends her days trying to heal from his abuse, he spends his

nights in clubs and picking out a different woman to take home

and fuck.

Last I heard, he’s not a nice fuck either. His form of rough play

isn’t pleasurable by any means when the woman walks away with

a bloody nose and a busted lip.

The asshole deserves to die. And I’m happy to get the fucking

honor.

This man and his family’s crimes were small crumbs in the

grand scheme of things. His family gets involved in petty crimes

and sees themselves as Seattle’s mafia. But they’re ants

compared to the fucking dinosaurs walking around in this city.

I’ve left them alone because there are much bigger fish to fry

than low-life criminals who think they’re crime lords. Their threat to

humanity is minuscule compared to the people I track and kill, and

until they start trading in more than just powder, they’ve never

been on my radar.

Until now, that is.

There’s no stopping Addie from opening her mouth and telling

the cops she has a stalker. Doesn’t matter that I’ve destroyed all

evidence of her police reports.

And if the Talaverra’s get wind of that, they’ll kill Addie for

something way out of her control. It doesn’t matter that the family

has enemies. Any possibility will be eliminated when they find that

the heir of the Talaverra empire has been murdered.

So tonight, I’ll rid Seattle of the little pests that have been

congregating so I can focus back on the bigger things. Making

Adeline mine and dismantling the pedophile rings.

I crack my neck, storm over to the front door, and bang my fist

into the wood as hard as I can. I pour all my anger into it, not

giving a fuck if I crack the wood beneath my fist. Just like the night

that small dick asshole was here. Running out of the house naked

with only one sock on, cursing Addie’s name.

I was relieved to see Addie kicked him out herself. It was the

only reason I didn’t kill him that night. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t

cut out his tongue for the names he called her.

She still isn’t aware of that since I ran him out of town and

forbade him from contacting her again.

I duck back in the shadows beyond the porch.

I know Archie’s type. He’ll come storming out, ever the savior

for the damsel in distress. Ready to take on the big bad wolf like

he’s not the old granny about to get eaten.

Really, he’s just a rabid fox posing as a wolf. His bite hurts, but

nothing compared to that of a real predator.

Right on cue, Archie whips the door open, his hands wrapped

around a gun.

“Come on out, fucker. I know you’re out there.”

Come get me, Archie.

He hesitates on the doorstep, sensing the danger residing in

the shadows.

But after a few moments, he develops a vagina and charges

out the door and down the porch steps. His head turns, his eyes

widening as he catches a glimpse of my face with a single red

rose in my mouth, the stem caught between my teeth.

I

bare my teeth, a feral grin that would chill even the devil.

Before he can react, I dart out, grab his arm and twist him around.

My hand slaps over his mouth as I pull his back to my front.

Twirling my knife, I stab him twice in the stomach. Both precise

areas that won’t cut through vital organs. He grunts beneath my

hand, the shock rendering him mostly silent.

Before the situation catches up to him and he starts shouting, I

push him off of me and deliver one sharp punch to the back of the

head.

Done in a matter of ten seconds, not a single peep out of his

mouth.

My arm snaps out and I catch him by the back of his suit jacket

before he can face-plant the cold, muddy ground. Out cold and

bleeding profusely.

I need to staunch the wounds before he loses too much blood.

But first, I slide the rose from my mouth, and dip the petals in

the crimson spilling from his wounds.

Can’t have my little mouse thinking there aren’t consequences

for letting another man touch what’s mine. She’ll find out soon

enough that I don’t make idle threats.

I rest his body against the porch for a second while I walk up

and throw the rose at her doorstep. I’m too pissed to do much

else.

And then I grab his body and start the brief trek through the

woods where my Mustang awaits. By the time the cops get here,

it’ll be too late.

A blood trail will lead them to tire tracks, and they might be able

to narrow down the make and model based on the tread

impressions, but the evidence will run cold after that. It will all be

destroyed soon enough.

The cops won’t know which direction to look. And Archie’s

family will assume their enemies caught up to him.

And they wouldn’t be wrong. They just won’t be able to guess

who until I’m standing in front of them with a knife in their necks.

“Let me the fuck go, you fucking prick. You think I’m someone

to mess with? Do you have any fucking idea who I am and who

my family is?”

His mouth is going to be stapled shut in point two seconds if he

keeps running it, that I do know. I relay this to him, and he

answers with a hyena laugh.

I turn and clock the fucker in the mouth, all the while keeping

my Mustang straight.

Colorful words follow, but they’re no brighter than the blood

pouring out with them.

Pretty boy isn’t so pretty now.

He’s going to experience a lot worse once I get back to my

place. He laid his mouth and hands on my girl, and there’s

consequences for silly mistakes like that.

He woke up about five minutes into the drive. Two strips of

fabric from his shirt are tied tightly across each stab wound on his

abdomen. His hands and feet are hog-tied—there’s not a chance

of him slipping free of those.

I’ve had too much practice.

He’s been running his mouth since the moment he awoke, and

it’s been grinding my gears into dust. He throws out empty threats

like bullets, but instead, they’re paper in the wind. None of them

make an impact. In fact, they don’t land anywhere near me.

It’s the mention of Addie that sends me into a murderous rage.

“Come on, man. Are you this worked over a piece of ass? Her

voice may be cut out for porn, and her pussy tight as fuck, but

shit, you can find that in other bitches too. I’ve fucked plenty of

them.”

What was going to be a fairly slow death is now going to be the

slowest death to ever happen since the dawn of humanity.

It was bad enough that he spoke of my girl in such a disgusting

manner, but then he went and topped it off by implying Addie isn’t

anything special.

She’s the first of her kind to exist, and there will never be

another like her.

I

pull into the driveway leading into my warehouse. It’s a

smaller structure, used to manufacture cameras for some shitty

company that went out of business within five years.

The building was foreclosed on, and I bought it for dirt cheap.

And then spent hundreds of thousands of dollars transforming it

into an impenetrable fortress.

I converted the main floor into my living space with state-of-the

art security. An ant will not be able to find its way into the building

without me knowing about it.

The second floor is my workspace. Dozens of computers and

illegal technology that make it possible to do what I do fill the

space. And the basement is where I handle all of my business—

meaning where I take the pedophiles to torture and kill them when

they have information I need.

I

built an underground garage that drives straight into the

basement. Makes for an easier haul when I got a six-foot-two

dickhead to carry to the table.

I’m a big man, but I’m just as capable of throwing out my back

as the next person. I’m still a human fucking being.

Shutting the garage door behind me, I turn the car off and twist

around.

I

sigh at the sight. Usually, I’m more prepared when I kidnap

people. They go in the trunk, and I don’t have to worry about

getting my car dirty. But by the time I carried him back to my car, I

was in a hurry and just threw him back there.

He’s already got blood everywhere, and I’m going to have to

pay my cleaning crew extra to get those stains out. With that

amount of blood, anyone would ask questions.

But they get paid way too much to ask stupid questions that’ll

get them killed.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I can knock your

ass out, or you can be a good little bitch and stay still.”

His bloody mouth forms around the word fuck, and it doesn’t

take a genius to know what word is going to come out next. I

punch him in the nose before he can get the first syllable out.

The crunch of bone beneath my fist is nearly orgasmic. By the

time I’m pulling my fist away, blood is squirting from his broken

nose. He spits, and a tooth flies out of his mouth and onto my

floor.

I’m going to shove my foot up his ass just for that.

I get out, round the car, and swing open the door.

He starts protesting, but the words become garbled when I

grab him by the collar and drag his ass out. With his limbs tied up,

he feels every drop and bump as I drag his body out of the car

and haul him towards the table.

He squirms like a worm on a hook, and I can tell by the

panicked look on his face that he has that feeling. The sinking

feeling that his life is balancing on the edge, and I’m about to

fucking Sparta kick him off.

Despite his struggles, I wrangle him on the surgical table, and

systematically untie specific ropes so I can strap him to the table

while simultaneously keeping him immobile.

He looks over and sees a dead Fernando lying on the other

table.

After I saw Sicily off, Michael dropped Fernando off at my place

while I went to Parsons Manor to snoop around. Addie and her

friend were leaving, so I followed them to a club.

It took all my willpower not to put a bullet in every man’s head

that grinded their dick against her ass. I decided to go home and

take care of business before I did something stupid and actually

kidnap her.

While I interrogated Fernando, I set up a monitor and kept an

eye on Addie through the club’s cameras. I'll admit, my torture

methods became a lot bloodier once I saw Archie lead her up the

stairs.

I got the information I needed from Fernando. Their process for

extracting girls, names of some of the mules, and the name of

who Fernando reports to. Turns out the guy is in Ohio, so I’m

letting one of the other mercenaries handle him. He'll get the

information on his boss and work our way up the chain.

The mules have already been located and targeted, so after I’m

done disposing of these two fucks, they’ll be getting a sniper shot

to the head, then on to Archie’s family.

“The fuck, man?” Archie spits, both terror and disgust evident in

his tone. Fernando’s face has started to bloat.

I

shrug, unbothered. “I have a lot of bodies to dispose of

tonight. It'll be easier to dispose of them all at the same time.”

“Look, whatever my family did, we can work out a deal,” Archie

negotiates, his words a little garbled and misshapen from his

broken teeth. His nose has already swollen and bruised, along

with his split, puffy lips. He looks as if he went five rounds in a

boxing match with his hands tied behind his back.

“I don’t have any connections with your family,” I say calmly. “At

least not until now.”

He’s silent for a beat, staring at me incredulously as his brain

processes that I’m not an enemy of the Talaverra’s.

“Then why the fuck are you doing this? Because of that fucking

girl?” he asks, his voice hysteric.

I lean close, letting him get a good look at my scarred face. If

it’s not the scars that warn people away, the deadly glint in my

eyes usually does the trick.

“She fucking wanted me. Not my fault that your girl doesn’t

want you.”

I sigh and straighten. I’m not going to bother explaining myself

to this prick. He won’t understand my obsession, and I don’t give a

shit enough to want him to.

What he doesn’t know is that the minute I properly introduce

myself to Adeline Reilly, she won’t be able to think of anyone else.

I will devour her from the inside out, until every intake of breath

will only stoke the inferno I've created inside her. Like oxygen

feeding a fire, I will consume every inch of her sweet little body

until she will think of nothing else but how to get me deeper inside

of her.

She’ll fear me at first, but that fear will only ignite her. And I will

be all too fucking happy to deliver the pain when she gets too

close to the flame.

# TO BE CONTINUED #

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